


Kiss and Tell

by LordGrimwing



Series: Neos Mnestis [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Drunken Party, F/M, Kissing, Nonsense, written in like an hour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 01:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9358100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordGrimwing/pseuds/LordGrimwing
Summary: Bass, Drop Dead, Pharma, and Blackpath have a very serious discussion about kissing. And some of them get wasted.





	

  Every five years, Vossians celebrate the creation of their first city. Or, they did, until the war wiped most of them off the map. Sure, a few of them had remembered the festival when the day came and went, but there just wasn’t the time to hold the celebration.

    The war’s over now. The Autobots, Decepticons, and neutrals coming to a shaking peace as they work and rebuilding what was lost in the conflict. And that day, that special day every five years, has rolled around again. The survivors of Voss are holding the festival in their own way.

  
  


    “Ug.” Drop Dead, the short, black, Vossian grounder, leaned back in her chair, nearly white servos bringing her decorative glass back up to her lips. “I’ve drunken so much I think I’m going to purge.” She took another gulp of the glowing high-grade, some of it dribbling down her white cheek.

    Across the table from her, Bass began laughing, the energon of her own glass spilling onto her lap. “But of course *hic* DD. That’s what happens when *hic* little grounders tr-*hic-try to keep up with seekers.” Her yellow wings jerked around in a meaningless, overcharged, display.  

    “Careful there Bass,” Blackpath, one of the less overcharged seekers, warned. The blind mech wasn’t really facing the right direction, but--hey--high-grade makes focusing hard. “Or she might not write you a good obituary.”

    “Ya!” Drop Dead sat up. “I always get the last word!” More energon spilled down her face as she tried for another drink.

    “I *hic* don’t need you to write mine.” Bass sniffed, tilting her helm up proudly. “I have someone *hic* else who could write it.” Her haughty manner was ruined when one of her thrusters spasmodically fire, sending her toppling off her stool.

    “That’s gonna leave a dent.” Pharma slurred from his own stool.

    “Non-Vossians can’t write proper obits.” Blackpath stated toward the still stunned Bass.

    “Besides,” Drop Dead spilled the last of her cube on the table. “All Drift and you ever do it make out… everywhere.”

    Grunting, Bass used the table to stand. “Ah ya. All day every day.” It came out very breathy. “At least I’ve got someone to do it with.” She cast a condescending look over the rest. “I best the rest of you haven’t even kissed before.”

    For a moment, the room went vary still. Then, “I think Blackpath’s about to extinguish from pure embarrassment.” Drop Dead muttered.

    The youngest Vossian in the room was suddenly covering his overheating face.

    “Is that possible?” Bass asked, incredulously.

    “Totally.” The mortician assured. “Quickly Pharma!” She turned to the older mech. “His vents are about to stop from mortification! You must perform mouth-to-mouth and vent for him!”

    “Then both of you can get your first kiss in.” Bass added.

    “No no no no.” Blackpath ducked under the table, venting noticeably louder. “I don’t want to be part of this conversation anymore.”

    Bass turned her attention to a new victim. “I bet you’re never kissed anyone DD.”

    The unlit optics in the porcelain face stared back at her. “I’ll have you all know, that I was the head of the kissing booth at the academy.” She lifted her head proudly. “I got us the highest turnout ever. So there.”

    Pharma looked totally aghast. “But, who--who would want--”

    “To kiss this face?” Drop Dead boxed her helm in with her servos. “I don’t know. But this one sure earned me a lot of extra credit.” And suddenly she wasn’t gesturing to her own face anymore. In her servos, she firmly held a picture of her red helmed brother.

    A gagging sound rose from under the table.

    “We all know it’s Pharma who’s never kissed anyone before, because mouth-to-mouth does not count.” Drop Dead nodded sagely.

    Both femmes turned to look at the older Vossian.

    “I don’t kiss and tell.” He stated, with a ruffle of his wings.

    “Pharma!” Drop Dead gasped, askance. “I always knew you weren’t a proper mech. But making out with one of those two mechs who assist you? Why I never!”

    More gagging from under the table.

    “I bet it was the Autobot-failed-science-experiment one, who’s repairs got botched by your protege.” She addes.  

    Pharma stared placidly back at Drop Dead. “Like I haven’t been accused of worse.”

    “No Drop Dead.” Bass interjected. “I’ve known Pharma *hic* for a long time and you’ve got it all wrong.” She faced the physician.

    “He *hic* can’t tell us. He’d be breaking his *hic* oath of doctor-patient confidentiality.”

  
  


    And the celebration was off to a great start.

    

**Author's Note:**

> Blackpath belongs to Transformer-comics (on DA) --- Sorry if he was too OOC, but I justify it with saying he was overcharged.  
> Bass and Drop Dead belong to LordGrimwing (that's me!) --- You're awesome.  
> And Pharma belongs to Hasbro --- Which is sad, 'cause I'd totally make him a great character.
> 
> The reason Knock Out isn't here is because he actually has someone to make out with right now.
> 
> And that part with Pharma kissing other mechs is because in Neos Mnestis most Cybertronians are homophobic to some extent. 
> 
> Kudos to who ever can figure out who Pharma's assistants are and which one Drop Dead refers to.


End file.
